One Night on Broadway
by lolainslackss
Summary: or, Why Nick & Jess should never go to New York City to see a musical together. One-Shot
**One Night on Broadway**

 _ **or, Why Nick & Jess should never go to New York City to see a musical together.**_

 _Two Months Earlier_

Schmidt walked into the room with the biggest smile on his face. Either he and Cece had done something really dirty, or something stupid had _finally_ arrived in the mail. Either way, Nick and Jess hoped he wouldn't announce it to the room.

"I won the lottery at work." Schmidt said, still grinning.

Nick frowned. Nothing good came from Schmidt grinning like this. His teeth were so white and shiny. They were almost scary to look at.

"Lottery?" Jess repeated, looking up from her book and setting down her herbal tea. "That sounds exciting. How much dollar did you win?"

"Oh, Jess. This was not a monetary jackpot. I won _tickets_." Schmidt replied as he sat down next to them on the couch.

"For what? A game? If it's a game, I get dibs, so tell Winston to buy his own stupid ticket." Nick said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Not a game," Schmidt said intensely, " _Hamilton_ , bitches. On Broadway. In New York City."

Nick rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the TV just as Jess began to scream. Stupid _Hamilton_. The pair of them had been singing it for weeks. It had infiltrated their True American games in a very real way. Nick wanted to kill them both.

"Dibs, dibs, dibs," Jess shouted between screams of excitement.

"Jessica Day, it would be an honour to take you." Schmidt said, taking her hands in his. For one brief moment, they were silent as they looked into each other's eyes, sharing something sacred.

"What's occurring?" Cece asked as she walked across the room and made her way over to the couch.

"Jess and Schmidt are going to New York." Nick answered, not bothering to look away from the TV.

"I won _Hamilton_ tickets, Cece," Schmidt told her, "I am the luckiest boy in the world."

"I called dibs, Cece," Jess warned.

"Please," Cece said, rolling her eyes, "I do not want to see some creepy musical. Those tickets are all yours, Jess."

"Yes!" Jess exclaimed, throwing a fist in the air.

"Seriously," Cece said (mainly to Nick, as Jess and Schmidt were now dancing around the room), "I once had to go see _Cats_ because Jess was in an amateur production and I still have nightmares to this day."

"I was Mr Mistoffolees." Jess called out breathlessly.

Nick caught Cece's eye and raised his eyebrows.

"Right?" Cece commented, shooting a glance at Schmidt and Jess, who were still dancing, "What were we thinking, hooking up with those two?"

"Well, Cecilia," Nick said, leaning towards her, "The funny thing is that me and Jess? In the past. But you and that guy? You're going to be _married_. Now that blows my mind."

"I am so, so, super excited!" Jess yelled as she flopped back down on the couch next to a horrified Cece.

"I truly am the luckiest boy in the world!" Schmidt cried, as he continued dancing.

There was a lot of dancing that night.

...

 _Present Day_

Schmidt was sick. He was sick _bad_. There was mucus everywhere - in places Schmidt wasn't even sure mucus _could_ be. He couldn't move. Shifting position between the sheets and the pillow was tough enough. Pain shot through his head, his legs, his arms. It did not feel good. He sneezed, he coughed, he slept. He was in quarantine. Nobody came in or out unless they were protected. Cece emerged from their room, one of Jess's patterned scarves wrapped around her nose and mouth and a thermometer in her hand.

"So," Cece told Jess, "I don't think Schmidt can go to New York."

Jess winced as she heard Schmidt's pained wail from inside his room.

"Cece – I am asking you this as a friend – please, please, please, please, please, please come with me to New York." Jess asked, shooting Cece her most charming smile.

"Jess, you know I can't," Cece told her sympathetically, "I have to stay here and look after Schmidt. He's going to be my _husband_ , Jess."

"Damn it. I knew you'd play the sick fiancée card." Jess said, scowling.

"It's not a card, Jess. I actually _do_ have a sick fiancée," Cece replied, "Why don't you ask Winston? He was crushed enough when you guys announced you were going in the first place. You know how much he loves show-tunes."

"Winston is so busy with work, Cece. Plus he'd wouldn't leave L.A. right now – he still thinks the streets aren't safe without him." Jess pointed out.

"Well, you know what that means," Cece said slowly.

"Nick," Jess answered, "That leaves Nick."

"Well, he's definitely not busy," Cece said, shrugging, "Nick would go with you."

"A night in New York with Nick?" Jess said, pressing her lips together thoughtfully.

"I mean, it's fine, right?" Cece asked, "You guys are cool?"

"Oh, the coolest," Jess said quickly, "We're the best of buds. It's just – we haven't really spent that much time, you know, _alone_ in ages. What if it gets weird? What if I get weird? What if he gets weird?"

"Okay," Cece intervened, "Why don't you ask Nick before you start overthinking it?"

"Ask me what?" Nick said as he walked into the kitchen, yawning.

"Well - Schmidt is too sick to go to New York tomorrow, so I was thinking that maybe you could come instead?" Jess asked awkwardly.

Nick stared at her blankly for a second, as if he couldn't remember she and Schmidt were even going to New York.

"Okay, sure," Nick answered finally, "Whatever you want, Jess. You're paying for my drinks, though."

"Deal!" Jess answered brightly, "Alright! We're going to New York."

"You're going to New York," Cece repeated, forcing a smile.

"We are going to New York," Nick said, narrowing his eyes as if he'd just realised it was a terrible idea.

They went to New York.

…

 _One Day Later, NYC._

"Wow, look at this room, Jess." Nick said, dumping their suitcases by the bed.

Jess let out a low whistle and walked over to the table where there was champagne chilling in an ice bucket.

"Super duper fancy," Jess commented, picking up the bottle and raising her eyebrows.

"Look at that bathtub!" Nick shouted excitedly, pointing, "I bet a damn mermaid lives in that bathtub."

"Probably." Jess said, nodding. She cast a glance around the hotel room. It was luxurious - plush pink and purple wallpaper, gauzy curtains framing a floor-length window which led to a private balcony, a king-size bed with a silky canopy and about a million pillows. There were candles burning on the dressing table. There were flowers in a vase in the bathroom. The whole room smelled like honeysuckle and romance. So much for things not getting weird.

Nick stared, open-mouthed. It was probably the fanciest room he had ever been in.

"What the hell?" Nick asked her. He sounded annoyed and impressed all at the same time. "Was Schmidt going to bring you here to have sex or something? Jessica – are you two having an affair?"

"Schmidt's _work_ booked the hotel room, Nick," Jess answered, folding her arms.

"I know," Nick said, still looking around, awe-struck, "I just feel like someone should be having sex in this room. I mean, the room practically demands it."

"The room _demands_ sex?" Jess repeated incredulously.

"Yeah," Nick replied matter-of-factly, "You know, we could totally have sex right here, right now, and it wouldn't count because we're in New York."

" _What_?" Jess yelled.

"You know," Nick said, raising his eyebrows, "You and me. One night on Broadway. This huge bed, its silky, purple sheets, two glasses of champagne, a long, hot bath afterwards. Am I painting a nice picture, here?"

"Nick-" Jess began.

"You know it as well as I do, Jess. We could have a _lot_ of sex in this room." Nick interrupted.

"What are you _doing_?" Jess asked, flustered.

"I'm _kidding_ , Jess. Would you relax?" Nick replied, laughing at the look on her face, "Should we ask to switch to a twin room?"

"And explain that we're exes, who are just friends, who are also roommates, who are spending the night in New York together?" Jess said pointedly, "That will be fun."

"That does sound complicated when you put it that way. Okay, well, the bed is big enough that we can sleep far apart," Nick said, frowning, "It'll be like...seperate desert islands. Yeah. There will be a whole stretch of ocean between us. We'll be on our own comfy little sleeping islands with silky sheets and feathery pillows and- do you feel sleepy all of a sudden?"

"Not really," Jess answered, but Nick was already tossing back the blankets and inspecting the mattress.

Jess sighed as she watched Nick sit down and begin bouncing up and down on the mattress. She inhaled deeply. Why did he have to be such a dummy? Why did he have to mention sex?

As she watched him, Jess popped the cork on the champagne and took a large swig right out of the bottle before pouring the fizzy contents into two thin flutes. She handed one to Nick.

"To a...great evening in New York," Jess said slowly, raising her glass.

"To...uh...friendship?" Nick responded awkwardly, clinking his glass against hers.

They each took a long sip, not meeting the other's gaze.

"So," Jess said eventually, putting down her glass, "Dinner before the show? It's included."

"Free rich people food?" Nick answered, grinning, "Let's go."

...

"I've never had beets in a cake before, Jess, but that was amazing," Nick was saying as they returned to their room.

"My ice cream had actual gold flakes on top," Jess said, draining the champagne from her glass, "I think I win."

"That was crazy. You ate actual gold, you weirdo," Nick laughed, "Man, I can't believe that waiter – he just kept filling our glasses with free champagne. I hope Schmidt wins another one of these things soon. And then gets sick again, so that I can go instead of him."

"You having that much fun with me, Miller?" Jess asked, as she began looking through the dresses she'd brought.

"I guess," Nick said, smiling.

"What do you think of this one?" Jess asked, holding up a floral dress with a pleated skirt, "Good enough to go to the _theatre_?"

"Do we have to go to the theatre?" Nick asked, wrinkling his nose, "We could just stay here all night, get more free champagne, cause trouble."

"No, Nick," Jess replied, tilting her head to the side, "I really want to see the show."

"I hate politics, Jess." Nick groaned.

"It's not- They're not going to force you to _vote_ , Nick. It's just a musical about the founding fathers – one special founding father in particular. You just have to sit back, watch the magic happen. You're going to love it, I promise." Jess told him.

"I hate musicals." Nick said, lying back on the bed.

"Since _when_?" Jess asked.

"Since forever, Jess. I hate musicals. They're the worst." Nick complained.

"What? How can you hate musicals? That's like hating...candy floss and baby animals and glitter." Jess responded.

"I hate all those things." Nick grumbled.

"Nick. Don't be like this. I can't go by myself so hurry up and get ready – we're going to be late if you keep bellyaching." Jess said. She looked around for her make-up bag, feeling tipsier than she thought she was.

"I'm a _man_ , Jess!" Nick cried out suddenly, "Men don't like musicals. Well – apart from Schmidt...and Winston and, well, every other guy I know but- that's not the point. They're dumb, Jess. People don't go around singing about their feelings or what they've done during the day or-"

"Yes they _do_ , Nick," Jess snapped, "Listen to this one: _I am super pissed off because Nick is being a jackass and we're going to be late_."

"Well," Nick sniffed, "That didn't even rhyme, so-"

"Why can't you just let go and have fun for once in your life and not pre-judge things and-" Jess yelled.

"I am _not_ pre-judging. I have always hated musicals. I hated all those ones we watched when we were dating," Nick went on, "I especially hated that long, French one where everyone was depressed-"

"You loved _Les Mis_ , Nick," Jess reminded him drily, "You cried."

"I cried because I hated it," Nick snapped, "I cried because I wanted it to end. I only watched it because you made me."

"Well, that's why we _broke up_ , Nick. Because we had nothing in _common_ ," Jess said quietly, grabbing her dress and make-up bad and making her way over to the bathroom, "And now, I'm going to get ready before I miss the show. Because I love musicals. They're fun and they're moving and believe it or not, they teach you a lot about history."

Jess locked the door behind her and started changing. She was so pissed. Nick Miller drove her crazy with his damn... _antics._ She was worried they wouldn't be able to get through the evening without the flame rekindling between them. She should have been worried about them biting each other's heads off. She sighed as she applied her eyeliner. In the other room, it was silent. Nick was probably asleep. Booze with too many bubbles made him drowsy.

She sprayed her neck with perfume as she checked the time. The show would be starting soon. Luckily it was close by. She would still make it.

She unlocked the door and to her surprise, Nick was buttoning up a crisp, new shirt. She looked at him and he rolled his eyes as if to say, _you win this time_. Jess smiled and slipped on her shoes.

"You ready?" Nick asked, pulling on his jacket.

"I'm ready," Jess said, linking her arm in his as they headed out the door, "Thank you,"

"Anything for you, Day." Nick replied.

...

"So," Jess asked Nick as they left the theatre amidst a crowd of people, "What did you think?"

"You were right, Jess – it was pretty good," Nick conceded, "Although, I can't help but feel they stole my idea."

" _What_?" Jess asked as they walked in the direction of the hotel.

"Well, I've kind of been working on a rap musical for a few years now," Nick replied, shrugging, "It's been on the backburner for a while."

"It's been on the backburner for a while?" Jess repeated in disbelief, "Literally a few hours ago, you told me that you have always hated musicals."

"I do hate musicals," Nick said with a nod as he opened the hotel lobby door for Jess, "But I love hip hop, Jess. You know that."

"You have never, ever told me that," Jess said, smirking.

"Well, I do. The music is in me." Nick said.

"You don't even- you don't even play an instrument, Nick. How have you even-" Jess started.

"You don't need to play an instrument or even know how to read those dumb music symbols to be able to write a rap musical, Jess. It's _rap_." Nick told her.

"You definitely need to be able to read music to be able to write a– you know what, never mind, Nick," Jess said as she entered their room and flopped onto their bed, laughing.

"Like I said, it's on the backburner," Nick said as he kicked off his shoes and undid his top button.

"Well, good luck with it, Nick," Jess managed through laughs.

"Thank you," Nick said, smiling, "Hey – check it out – our ice bucket is full again."

"They might as well just put champagne in the taps, am I right?" Jess called out.

"Oh, you're definitely right, honey," Nick said, "A champagne bath is one bath I would love to take."

 _Honey_? Had he just called her that? Jess lifted her head from the comfort of the blanket and watched as Nick poured the champagne into their flutes.

"Hey, Nick," Jess called out to him.

"What's up, Jess?" Nick asked as he handed her the champagne.

"I missed this." Jess said, sitting up.

"What? Hanging out in a fancy hotel? Going to see broadway musicals together?" Nick asked, smirking.

" _This_ ," Jess answered, "Being together, you know, being just- just _us_. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do," Nick replied, "I think we make a good...just us."

"Right," Jess said, her eyes widening.

"To us?" Nick asked, as he held out his glass to touch hers.

"To us," Jess repeated firmly, lightly touching his glass with her own.

...

Jess couldn't sleep. She was slightly drunk and she was entirely too comfortable but she couldn't sleep. Her ex was in her bed and they had been laughing and flirting all night and that was why she couldn't sleep. She shifted and turned around, opening her eyes.

They hadn't closed the curtains. The city lights illuminated the dark room so that she could see Nick in bed beside her. She could see the back of his head – if she reached out, she could probably touch the soft brown hair there. He was still wearing his shirt (in their drunken shenanigans they had gone to bed fully dressed). He looked still, peaceful. She wouldn't reach out, not tonight. As she sank deeper into her pillow and tried to go to sleep, Nick turned around. His eyes were open and they found hers immediately.

"Can't sleep?" She whispered as he heart skipped a beat.

He gave a slight shake of the head.

"We could try counting sheep-" Jess began, but Nick reached over and put a finger to her lips.

She gave him a questioning look but he responded by moving across to her side of the bed and settling next to her in the dark. They hadn't been so close in so long.

Before she could say any more, he leaned in and kissed her softly. His lips tasted like champagne and she barely responded and he pulled away and looked at her as if to say, _I'm not sorry_. She took a deep breath and her hands sought out the back of his neck and she leaned in to kiss him. He parted his lips and she tilted her head and their mouths met. Their kiss quickened, deepened. Nick's breath was warm and she had forgotten how fiercely he could kiss. She could feel her heart trembling in anticipation. One of his hands was laced through her hair – the other was low at her hip. Slowly, she rolled over so that she was on top of him. His fingers trailed up and down her bare thighs, grazing the fabric of her dress skirt.

"Do you-?" Nick started, but Jess bent down to shush him with a kiss.

"It doesn't count, right?" Jess said breathlessly, "Because we're in New York?"

"It counts," Nick replied, his voice a low, rough whisper.

"It does?" Jess asked as she pressed her body against his and started to unbutton his shirt.

"It counts, Jess," Nick said firmly, sliding a hand up her skirt.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Miller." Jess said finally as he leant forward to kiss her again.

...

 _Two Months Later_

"The luckiest boy in the world strikes again," Schmidt announced to the room.

"Lottery again?" Winston asked, "At least I'm here to call dibs this time."

"You can't pre-emptively call dibs, Winston." Jess told him.

"How are you the luckiest boy in the world?" Nick asked, "You got so sick last time that you couldn't go to New York. Now _that_ is unlucky, pal."

"Yes, but my luck transferred to you, Nick," Schmidt replied, "You got back together with the girl of your dreams, right? _That_ is luck."

"Can't argue with you there," Nick replied as he put an arm around Jess.

"So what is it this time? And remember, the fiancée automatically gets dibs," Cece shot a warning glance at each of them, "Unless it's something stupid."

"Well, you're all going to be fighting over this one." Schmidt assured them, grinning.

"What _is_ it, man?" Winston asked impatiently.

"My work is hosting a marketing convention and I managed to get a couple of passes to all the seminars and presentations!" Schmidt declared excitedly, "Can you believe it?"

There was a collective groan as the group made their way out of the room.

"Come on, guys. These passes are going like hot cakes," Schmidt shouted after them, "Guys? Guys? _Guys_?"


End file.
